Page 18 of Until the Stars Fall

“Yes,” I said, and for some reason I decided to add, “not sure anything could get her to leave the Durands—”

Mr. Marstens was already speaking again. “Do tell her that the young Miss Berg is in good hands.”

Pruitt shifted in his seat. “And how do I know your hands are good?”

The bartender showed no sign of offense at the question but lifted a shoulder, saying, “Because her mother sent her here for a reason, and I do not think she would have sent her into harm’s way.”

For several breaths, the two fae stared at each other across the bar, as if engaged in a silent argument I wasn’t invited to. This was getting ridiculous. Yes, there was a risk here. This bartender could be pretending to be my contact, pretending to know my mother. But life would always have risks, and I refused to live in fear.

Clearing my throat, I broke the silence. “Mr. Marstens, excuse us for not taking you at your word. We mean no disrespect, but these are odd times. Is there any proof you might be able to offer that would put us more at ease?”

The bartender seemed unperturbed by my request and promptly smiled. “Of course, of course. Alora—smart woman that she was—planned for your skepticism. Told me to mention her necklace, the blue stone on a silver chain. Given to her by the late queen herself to celebrate the birth of her daughter—you.”

My heart swelled as I listened, and my hand itched to reach for the pendant hidden beneath my shirt. I refrained. While any doubts surrounding Mr. Marstens were quickly fading, it seemed unwise to assume the others in this room could also be trusted.

“Is he right?” Mr. Pruitt asked, leaning into my line of sight.

I blinked rapidly at him before nodding. “Yes. About all of it.”

“And you’re sure you are all right being left here alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Pruitt. I’m sure. Please let Mrs. Bishop know I arrived safely, and I will send word to her as soon as I’m able to.”

“Very well,” the driver said, rising from his seat. “I will be off then. Please do take care, miss. Mrs. Bishop will have my head if anything happens to you.”

As I watched the fae exit the tavern, I hoped I was making the right decision to stay.

I woke the next morning to the unfamiliar scent of stale beer and dust, panicking for a moment before remembering where I was and why I had come here. My back ached from the lumpy mattress I’d slept on, but I reminded myself it could have been worse.

Exactly, you could have been killed.

Yawning, I reached my arms overhead, wincing when I slammed my knuckles into the hard wall at the head of the bed.

“Sleep well?” a male asked, and I shot up to find Mr. Marstens sitting in a wooden chair near the window. Why was he in here? How long had he been watching me sleep?

As if he could read my thoughts—and I wasn’t completely convinced that he couldn’t—he smiled warmly. “As you said last night, miss, these are odd times, and there is only one reason you would be showing up in my tavern as you did. I would be remiss if I let anything happen to you before I could get you to your family’s camp.”

“So you sat there all night?” I asked, dropping my eyes to verify I was still dressed in the riding clothes I’d worn yesterday.

His eyes widened slightly, but he shook his head. “No.” I exhaled with relief. “I stood most of the night. Over there, by the door.”

My mouth fell open like a dying fish.

“Don’t worry, Miss Berg. I promise I was perfectly proper.” I scrounged for words but found none. “You can close your mouth now. And if you’d like to freshen up before we leave, there is a privy down the hall with a soaking tub. I can have hot water brought up for you.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say. “That would be wonderful. But can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling.

“How did you know my mother? How do you know where to find my family?”

His eyes turned wistful for a moment, but his good humor returned quickly. “Ah, your parents used to visit Engle quite often. It’s where her cousins—who you’ll be staying with—had their home before the war. I never had the pleasure of fighting beside your father, but I was sad to hear of his falling. I only saw your mother once more after that, when she came here to arrange for your training.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’ve remained in touch with them. Not with how fae and humans now hate each other.”

Mr. Marstens nodded slowly. “Ah, well. Technically, I’m a demi-fae, so I have ties to both of our kinds. Truth be told, I’d love to see an end to this unrest and division.”

Pulling in a breath, I squared my shoulders and rose to my feet. “So when do we leave?”

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